An Evening with Headless…(And his Wife Katrina)
by Riddley Walker
Summary: This is a comedic imagining of the goings on in the Headless household after Katrina turns to the "Dark Side" and marries the Headless Horseman-The Horseman of Death. With apologies to Terry Pratchett, I riff on his idea of the character "Death" presented in his discworld novels. The only story you'll find with the Headless Horseman/Death, Mexican soaps and Jaegermeister!


**This is something I just had to write up after getting frustrated with season 2 of SH. I realized the comic potential of the Katrina character and Headless who went from being a Terminator type character to Abraham in a powdered wig making quince tea. Anyway, the last stage of grief is acceptance so I imagined Headless (the Horseman of Death) and Katrina (after she turned to the "Dark Side") as something you might find in the works of Terry Pratchett. Writing this was strangely cathartic and I hope someone likes it… Oh, and it's seldom you'll see Mexican soap operas, the Horseman of Death and Ben Roethlisberger mentions in the same story!**

**AN EVENING WITH HEADLESS (AND HIS WIFE, KATRINA)**

A lone raven soared over the village of Sleepy Hollow in the gathering dusk. After a straight flight over the village, he banked toward the river; the land below a patchwork of farmland and forest with the red and gold autumn leaves illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun. Skimming the tops of the trees, the venerable bird flapped toward an old dutch colonial farmhouse in a small clearing tucked in amongst several twisted trees inexplicably festooned with spanish moss. Several out-buildings peaked out behind the farmhouse including a large stable with a charred roof and one crumbling, blackened wall. The raven glided to a gnarled branch on one of the trees and let out a disheartened croak as he perched. A flickering light could be seen through the large front window and a thin wisp of blue smoke rose from the chimney.

In the parlor, a large figure leaned back in a studded leather chair- his breeches were unbuttoned and his loose white shirt untucked. A scarlet military tunic with gold epaulettes was carelessly tossed on the couch nearby. Surprisingly, the figure's head seemed to be missing. Several pizza boxes with "Domino's" on the top were scattered at his feet amidst a collection of empty beer bottles. On the side table sat a glass tumbler and a squarish green bottle. By the door stood a pair of muddy leather riding boots. The Horseman's attention was directed at the TV screen he faced where the words _Explosion Gigantesca de Romance_ scrolled across the screen followed by heavily made-up woman in a curve-hugging blue dress berating a dark-haired man with an unbuttoned shirt in Spanish.

As the Horseman rubbed his hands together and reached for the last piece of pizza, footsteps could be heard on the porch. Fumbling for the TV remote he furtively changed the channel from the Mexican soap opera to a sports program. As the door swung open and a striking red-haired woman marched in setting a basket on the floor beside the ottoman, Al Michael's voice could be heard announcing the starting line-ups for tonight's _Sunday Night Football_ game.

"Ohhh, what a pleasant visit with Mrs Moloch. She really is quite kind and gave me this to help restock my potions pantry," she said pointing at the basket.

The Horseman peered over the top and saw the mass of-apparently unhappy-toads scrambling up the sides.

"Can you loosen my corset, dear? Ahhhh! Much better! " she said as he obliged. "Sometimes it's good to have a husband."

Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the green bottle."Jaegermeister! I know the frat kid told you that swill was _Devil's drink_ but seriously, it is NOT made with deer's blood and there is NO occult meaning to the label. That's Saint Hubertus for Pete's sake-he was on the other side you know… While we're on the subject of drink… Yes, the labels on Arrogant Bastard ale are amusing but I don't think it was wise to bring that to Beelzebub's party. "

" $#%^#^$%&$%"

"Yes, a joke! Ha Ha! But he really _doesn't_ have much of a sense of humor. Besides, don't you think beer is a bit _gauche_? We really should be drinking Claret and Rhine these days. We've moved up the ladder, Dear. Please keep an eye on the toads while I change."

With the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, the Horseman stood up and watched the toads closely. Their efforts to escape were fascinating. Toad pyramids would form along the edge, but collapse before the top toad could reach the edge. Finally, one energetic fellow hopped up and over, bouncing off his compatriots. He seemed a little dazed and unsure of what to do next, turning around to look back at the basket. Reluctantly, The Horseman reached out and carefully put the toad back in the basket. The toads seemed disheartened by the return of the escapee and simply huddled together quietly. The Horseman settled into the chair again holding a double-bladed war ax and a whetstone. He carefully sharpened the ax blades; every now and then glancing up at the television.

The Horseman tried to concentrate on the football game but couldn't keep his mind from wandering off. Before he knew it, the red-haired woman was back; now in a long plaid flannel night-gown with a towel wrapped turban-style around her head. She settled onto the couch and began wedging cotton balls between her toes. Opening a bottle of "Poisonous Pewter" nail polish, she began carefully painting her nails- talking without looking up.

"Well the vet came by and had a look at Binky-such a silly name for Death's horse, you know!"

"!$ %#$^"

"Oh, it was Dr Evil."

"! $$ # %#% &%$&(((*&66(&&^^%$#! "

"Not THAT Dr. Evil, his son _Scott_ Evil. Anyway, he thinks it was the pony-rides that caused Binky's lameness. Really, dear, I _know_ we need some income, but pony-rides? Honestly! It looks like you'll be the "Footman" of Death for awhile until he's better! Ha Ha!

"Had a nice visit with Mrs Moloch and was even able to help a bit with Moloch's problem. What? Yes, ever since his regeneration, he's back to head-butting mirrors. He really can't seem to help himself and he's still a _little_ confused after the latest incident. It's sad, really. This was a bad one and he even knocked off a good chunk of horn. I was able to make a potion to repair it and it's almost as good as new. Lots of strange ingredients we didn't have in the old days which make the magic _so_ much more powerful. For my horn-mending potion I used something called "epoxy" which worked _wonderfully_! I really _am_ regaining my powers. Even Mrs. Moloch was impressed! 'I've never met a witch like you, Katrina,' she said.

"I was checking on the goblins repair work on the stables and it looks like it's coming along well. Who knew a fire-breathing horse could cause so much damage with just a cold? Yes, they're putting flame-resistant paint on the interior which should prevent this type of thing in the future.

"I have to say, though, I really _don't_ like those little fellows the goblins…They give me the willies. Several of the neighbors have mentioned cats and small dogs that are missing and I can't _help_ but think those little creeps had something to do with it. On the other hand, the rat problem in the barn seems to have been solved," she chuckled.

"That being said, I really think we _should_ hire an Igor. Mrs Slubgob hired one and couldn't be happier. They really are _so_ helpful and she says you get used to their lisping.

"There! Done!", she said gazing proudly at her toenails.

The Horseman got up with a grunt, picked up the basket of toads and carried them into Katrina's work-room. As he returned, she gave him a critical look.

"You know, Abraham, those breeches are _much_ too snug now and I really think it's time to think about trying the 'Old' Death's cloak. I know! I know! Hear me out! You want to establish your own "brand" but don't you think yours is a little…hmmmm…_provincial? _Think about it, if you come for someone in Beijing or Rangoon-yes, I know they've changed the name. As I was saying if you have to "visit" someone in Beijing or Rangoon, do you think they'll have the _slightest_ clue who you are? _Really_-black cloak and scythe-what could be more universal than that? Say what you, will, the 'Old' Death had a certain _je ne sais quoi_"

The horseman leaned over the glittering blade of his ax and carefully dropped a scrap of paper on it which sliced in two and burst into flames. Brushing the ashes away, he stood up and a second later, the ax was vibrating in the heavy oak door with wisps of smoke curling from the ax-head.

"Point taken. Keep the ax. But I do think you should at least _try_ on the cloak. I've got it right here."

Reluctantly, the Horseman pulled the cloak over him. The hood sagged sadly where his head should be.

Katrina crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Honey, it fits just _fine_. Yes, the hood is an issue, but no one really can see inside of it. It would be simple to make a prosthesis of sorts. Hmmmmmm...I'm thinking something out of paper mache would fill it out _splendidly_! No need to decide now, but let's keep it in mind. Changing your image might give you a bit more _gravitas. _Look, even I change things up a bit. See?"

Katrina, unwrapped her hair revealing a white stripe of hair, in the center of her red locks. Despite himself, the Horseman couldn't help but think it looked like she had a strange red skunk on her head.

"Yes, I thought you'd like it!" she said as she settled back onto the couch.

"I know I'm interrupting your football, but it's so seldom we _really_ talk." She raised an eyebrow as she looked at the TV. "Oh, Roethlisberger, he's on our side you know…

"Anyway, while I've got you, what do you think about having a Headless junior?" The Horseman stiffened. "No, no, not really headless, but-you know-a baby? You _do_ know that your …mmmm…disability is not something that can be passed on? Good, I only bring this up because we _really_ need to decide soon if we're going to have a family. I'm two hundred and fifty years old and _not_ getting any younger. You do know what happened when that succubus girl got pregnant? And she was only a little older than I am. Anyway, I was talking with Dr Faustus and he said we really need to start _soon_. Oh, and after doing the surrogate thing with Moloch, he said my uterus could hold a kid the size of a large pumpkin if need be, so I've got that going for me." The Horseman shuddered. "Don't give me that look Abraham! My problems are yours now that we're married so get over it!

"So, I'll leave you to the game. You're on your own for breakfast again. I've got hot yoga early tomorrow. Good-night, Darling", she said giving him a kiss in the general area his head would be.

As Katrina headed off to bed, the Horseman emptied the green bottle into the tumbler and drank it down in one go. Leaning back in the chair he slowly relaxed and drifted off.

Outside, the raven gave a feeble croak and flapped off toward the village.


End file.
